Sidhe Chronicles 2  Dark of the Moon
by BuckeyeBelle
Summary: The Sidhe warrior Diarwen had no idea that she was about to be caught up in the final battle between the Autobots and the Decepticons. Very AU. Hard T for language.
1. Chapter 1

The Sidhe Chronicles 2

Dark of the Moon

(A.N. Transformers belongs to Hasbro and whoever they have allowed the rights to it, which certainly doesn't include me. No money has been made from this fanfic and no copyright infringement is intended. All I own are my OCs.

This is an adaptation of Dark of the Moon. My sources are both the movie and the Peter David novelization. Direct quotes are in **bold type.** Events from the movie not mentioned within this story can be assumed to have happened more or less the same as in canon, with the exception that in this AU, Wheeljack was not executed. I left out scenes that did not affect my OC for the sake of brevity. Some familiarity with the movie or novelization will be necessary to understand what's going on here. It is a sequel to "Swords and Jewels"

"Normal speech"

::Silent speech (Internal radio or through a bond)::

Scene Break: -DOTM-

Thanks to my beta, Vivienne Grainger, without whose assistance this story would not exist. Any remaining mistakes are mine. /A.N.)

It was too fine a morning to sit indoors. For once, Diarwen had the place to herself. Her friend Betony, who owned the farm where they lived, was off to Chicago with a friend who drove a truck. She wouldn't be back for several days. Their bandmate Jordan Wallace had family issues in Florida. She had already fed the cat and done all the other small tasks that needed done around the house this morning.

She decided she had might as well earn some money and maybe, if she were fortunate, find inspiration for a new ballad in the bustle of the city. She decided that a generic bohemian look would do well today, peasant blouse, long flowing skirt that, with a glamour, could hide her sword, a scarf tied around her waist, hair in a simple braid. A stronger glamour hid her bow and quiver, slung over her shoulder. Her belt pouch, tucked under her scarf against pickpockets, held her money, a fake ID in the name of Diana Smith, and her transit passes. Last of all she wore a pair of leather gloves, necessary lest she burn herself on iron or steel a dozen times a day. The only instrument she carried today was her tambourine. She might explore for a while, and had nowhere safe to leave her harp while she did so. The tambourine had been bought from a vendor at a Faire and could as easily be replaced.

It was a long walk to the nearest bus stop. It took her to the train station, and the train took her into the city. Her destination was a small park on the banks of the Potomac which was a street musicians' hangout, but she had a walk to get there from the nearest bus stop.

A bike messenger nearly ran Diarwen over. She danced out of the way and landed on his handlebars for a short ride, intrigued by his dark eyes and smile. A few blocks later, she left him with a smile of her own and a kiss on the cheek. Looking back at her, he nearly ran into the back of a garbage truck, much to the amusement of its crew.

Diarwen spied her favorite hot dog vendor at the entrance of the park and decided it was late enough in the morning for an early lunch. A few minutes later, she had a footer, a bag of chips and a can of soda. Junk food had become a vice, but as a sword master, she got enough exercise to deal with the calories. She had to be careful not to eat very much processed food, though, the chemicals could make her very ill. As a matter of fact, a stop at the organic market would be a good idea.

She had just finished her not-so-healthy but delicious lunch, when an odd assortment of vehicles sped by. First came a fire truck and a yellow Camaro, followed after about half a minute by a black truck, a couple of military hummers, and a silver Lamborghini.

It wasn't their outward appearance that caught her interest, but an energy that she knew of old. She tossed her trash into a nearby container and headed down the street after that odd little parade.

They had apparently turned into the back lot of one of DC's ubiquitous government office buildings. Not one to let walls, gates and guards get in the way of satisfying her curiosity, she crossed the street and climbed a tree.

Sometimes some random action taken on a split second's whim can create a fork in the road and take destiny in an entirely different direction. Diarwen took a look into the parking lot and saw a large red robot about to shoot a somewhat shorter black one in the back. The red one had picked his moment well, no one was looking his way.

Diarwen had fired an arrow and shouted a warning before she really had time to think about what she was doing. Her arrow flew true, striking between the red one's finger plates to bite deep into his servo. He would have ignored a human-made arrow, but this was something else again. It burst into white flame, doing little damage but certainly creating a distraction. Sentinel's shot went astray, hitting a shipping container instead of the weapons specialist.

That was all Ironhide needed to dive for cover and spin up his weapons, roaring every Cybertronian synonym for coward of questionable lineage that he had in his vocabulary. The Sidhe didn't understand a word of it, but she got the gist.

Will Lennox reacted by grabbing a shoulder-fired rocket from his hummer and blasting away at the traitor. Sentinel was just fast enough to get his shield in the way, but the impact still knocked him into the wall with a loud crash. Concrete shards went flying.

Ironhide's fusion cannon would have done a lot worse than that if it hit. Sideswipe and Bumblebee were getting themselves organized and the NEST agents had followed their commander's lead without hesitation. Dozens of rounds impacted the red armor, but instead of ricocheting off like a normal bullet would have, they exploded. None had any serious effect, but it was only a matter of time until one of them hit something not so well armored. To top it all off, Sentinel wasn't sure exactly where Optimus Prime was, and the need to fight him, Ironhide and Sideswipe at the same time was precisely what the failed sneak attack had been meant to prevent. Sentinel vaulted the wall, causing a few cars on the street to spin out of control then take off up the street as fast as they could go.

Diarwen drew her sword and called spellfire to ignite its mithril blade. That had been the last sight of many a Fomor that blackguard's size. She dropped ten feet to a lower branch then jumped the rest of the way to the ground, landing with a dancer's grace.

Sentinel did not know who or what she was, but he could very well sense the energy flowing around that sword. He swung his primax blade at her, but clearly he wasn't used to fighting enemies her size.

Diarwen knew that probably saved her life as she vaulted over the blade. She had fought enemies before who were better swordsmen or more powerful witches. That in and of itself did not frighten her. But there was something about this adversary that gave her an ice cold chill.

By then Ironhide had got to the top of the wall. One blast melted half Sentinel's shield, and another just missed his helm.

He gave them a look of pure fury, and for a moment Diarwen thought they were going to have to fight him to the death right there. His plans apparently did not include a street brawl. The threat of his rust gun forced them to take cover. He backed off a few long paces, covering them, then transformed and got out of there. Ironhide clearly thought about sending a few cannon rounds after him, but there were too many innocent bystanders to risk it.

Thanking the spirits of Fire, Diarwen extinguished and sheathed her blade. For a moment, she knelt in the street, breathing hard and grounding the energy she had drawn up.

A shadow fell across her and she looked up at the large black warrior.

"Are you injured?"

"No, not at all. Yourself?"

"No, and I am in your debt for that. Come with me before the police get here."

She balanced on the hand he offered, holding to a forearm plate as he went back over the wall. The adrenaline rush burnt itself out and left her fighting the shakes. At least, if anyone asked her, she was going to blame it on the adrenaline.

A smaller blue robot, still at least three times her size, was spraying something on the remains of the shipping container, while the rest of the crowd milled around. There was a lot of angry shouting and cursing in several languages. A green bot came over and asked her permission to scan her for injuries. She didn't know what he meant but he clearly meant no harm, so she allowed it.

Whatever his scan revealed was enough to startle him, but he kept it to himself as a woman came marching out of the building. "You can't just bring all these civilians in here! This is a restricted area for good reason, they've all got to go!"

Ironhide thundered, "I owe this 'civilian' a life debt, and I'll be damned if you'll treat her, or Sam or his femme, with disrespect in my hearing!"

Diarwen leapt lightly from Ironhide's palm to the pavement in front of the newcomer and swept a theatrical bow. "No civilian have I been since long before you had a concern in it, milady. I am Diarwen, sword-matron and bard. May I have the honor of your name e'er you insult me again?"

"What is this, an SCA convention? I'm Charlotte Mearing, and I was still the Director of NEST the last time I looked."

"Well, milady, since I have no idea what that is, and you are clearly unaware of what I might be, shall we discuss this like rational adults, or settle questions of precedence more directly?"

A lot of the soldiers were willing to release the tension in laughter when someone in the back shouted, "Catfight!"

A commanding voice from the back of the crowd stated, "No one is going anywhere until I find out what in the Pit just happened here."

Everyone in the whole place snapped to attention, with the exception of Mearing, who turned to the newcomer with a certain respect. Diarwen recognized the tall warrior's blue and red patterns and bowed, with less flourish and more formality than she had shown Mearing. "Well met, warrior."

"Lady Diarwen."

The story got told, along with a great number of expressions of outraged honor. Diarwen told her part in it, more interested in giving Optimus the facts he needed than in whether or not Mearing believed a word of it. She didn't let on that she knew Will, because she wasn't sure how Mearing would take it, but the NEST commander himself didn't try to hide anything. He obviously wanted to know more about the Sidhe part of it, but as far as he was concerned if Ironhide said he owed her, Will did as well.

Optimus said, in a command tone he had never used before with her, "Director Mearing, Sam, Carly and Diarwen are welcome here. If that is going to be a problem for you, then we need to discuss it with the President. Immediately."

She considered. They already knew too much, and the Witwicky kid always managed to get himself into everything the Autobots were in-right up to his eyeballs. More importantly, she wasn't going to learn anything about Diarwen if she kicked her out. "They're your responsibility," she said.

Optimus acknowledged that with a nod. "The important consideration now is Sentinel."

The bot who changed into a yellow Camaro looked at Optimus. From the way the bots reacted it was obvious to Diarwen that he had just asked a question, though she had heard nothing. Optimus replied, "I don't know yet, Bee. I don't know why Sentinel did this."

Arcee asked, "Could the 'Cons have infected him with a virus? He's been out on his own for a few days."

Ratchet said, "Are you suggesting that they might have captured him before he could have alerted us that something was happening? I find that hard to believe. I'd be more inclined to think he got glitched when the _Ark_ crashed. The Matrix would have repaired any physical damage, but if his programming got corrupted, I don't know that it would have been restored. But even that wouldn't have explained this."

Optimus said, "Megatron must have done _something_ to him."

That seemed to be the consensus, but Diarwen had her doubts. She said, "You may not believe it to look at me, but I have been a warrior for many, many turnings of the Wheel. The Sidhe are long lived, as long as your kind unless some accident or the fates of warfare intervene. I have fought many battles, and survived them as much by trusting my skill at reading my enemy as by any ability at arms or wizardry. That one is one who commands, not one who is commanded."

Will said, "If you're right about that, we're in for the fight of our lives."

Sam and Carly did have to leave. They both had work. But this time, Optimus sent Bumblebee with them. The rest went into the building.

The office building exterior was just a facade. Inside, it was mostly one long huge hall. There was technology everywhere, but the trappings aside, Diarwen knew this place. It was the great hall of any dun or longhouse, human or Sidhe, in her day. Here a clan worked by day and slept by night, each family's sleeping areas along the walls where they kept their belongings, and the central common area. At one end, the high table where the clan leadership met—here, that was a high walkway where the humans and bots could speak at eye level. Yes, she was well familiar with this.

This particular clan had just been the victim of a cattle raid, and their pride was smarting. At least, thank the gods and ancestors, they were not a clan in mourning.

Mearing came over. "How did you meet these people? You room with Lennox' sister, you and Optimus Prime know each other somehow. What's your connection?"

"A fair question, that. Might we sit somewhere, and I'll tell the tale over something to drink?"

Mearing nodded, and led the way to the office that she had been told was hers. "I think my common courtesy flew out the window in all the confusion. We, all of NEST, are greatly in your debt. If you hadn't been there—"

"But I was, milady. Best not to think of what might have been, had luck failed us."

"True." Mearing moved a box from a chair, and opened another box to find a bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses. "I hope Jim Beam will do."

"If that's what you're having, it's fine," Diarwen smiled. Once they were seated with their drinks in hand, she asked, "How long ago would you have my tale begin?"

"I need to know that you aren't a security risk to my people. But beyond that, I'm trying to wrap my head around the concept that all my grandmother's stories about the Fair Folk have a basis in truth."

"I am glad that you said 'a basis.' Much of the lore has been filtered through the lens of the medieval Church, which tried to commit genocide on my folk. We fared no better than the heretics and the Jews in those days. We are a warrior people, but we were outnumbered hundreds to one. In the end, rather than fight a war that would have led to devastation for both sides, my Queen ordered our retreat to the lands of our ancestors, that which has entered your legends as Tir nan Og, the lands to the west. Now, I think you would call it another dimension. When the last had gone, I destroyed the portal so that none could pursue. This is your world now."

Mearing had the grace to be ashamed.

Diarwen said, "I am the only one left alive with blood on my hands from that war. It is long past. I have since found welcome and friendship among generations of your kind. For hundreds of your years, I dedicated myself to protecting others from the excesses of the Inquisition. If there was revenge to be had, I had it, until I'd taken more than my fill of it, during the wars of the Reformation. When European settlement of this land began, I came here to begin anew. For what it is worth, I probably am an American, since I was living here when this nation was founded and I fought for its independence. I was a scout and a spy for General Marion in those days."

"Would you like to make that official?"

"I would like not to be deported when this crisis is past," Diarwen replied. "Though, for all that, you would be welcome to try."

"At the very least, I have the contacts at INS to keep that from happening."

"And the Autobots?"

"I can't exactly pass them off as Irish immigrants," Mearing pointed out.

Diarwen laughed. "I suppose not. In any case, I've done many things over the years. I've been a governess and bodyguard for the daughter of a president. I've sung in dance halls throughout the west. I've fought in every war save the Indian Wars, I'd have no hand in that barbarity."

"Every one? Including the Gulf?"

"Most recently in Afghanistan."

"Where? You weren't in Kandahar, were you? I was there a lot."

"I helped hunt Osama, though more is the pity I was not there when they found him. I had friends in the North Tower."

"I had a few in the Pentagon. I'm certain we know a lot of the same people."

"Most likely. I scouted for the Steel Tiger."

Mearing raised her glass. "Colonel, now General, Tigran. Shall I give him a call?"

"To his health! Please do, and convey my regards."

That call quickly established Diarwen's bona fides as far as Mearing was concerned.

"How did you end up here?"

"A leg full of steel shot from a roadside bomb," she said. "It nearly burned my leg off before my partner got it all out. I was months healing that, and even longer working my way back to fighting condition. I amused myself and earned pocket money that summer busking and singing at the Faires. That was where I met Betony Lennox. We formed a band together with another friend. Two years ago, I met Optimus Prime by way of Betony. That was a...surprise. Even so, I'd known that her brother was a Ranger, but I never suspected anything like all of this."

"So today...?"

"Betony and Jordan are both out of town. There is a park not far from here where street musicians play. I meant to earn some coin today, not get into a battle royale with the likes of _that."_

"You rose to the occasion," Mearing said, raising her shot glass.

"I've battled Fomori lords and dragons who did not have such terrifying auras," Diarwen admitted, one warrior to another. She tossed back the last of her glass, and Mearing poured her another. "I could not just stand by—"

Mearing said, "To those who cannot just stand by—may they increase and prosper."

Diarwen drank to that.

"Wait a minute. There are dragons? And...Fomor? What's a Fomor?"

"Yes, there are dragons. Few today, but they do exist. The ones who have learned to get along with the governments where they live. The Fomor are the ancient enemies of the Sidhe. We are kin to humans. Most of us had a human ancestor or two, and many humans have Sidhe blood. The Fomor are another people entirely. They are the root of your legends of bloodthirsty ettins and giants and ogres. A few of them still live in the wild places of Europe and Asia. They are not the threat that they once were, but if you hear of a mountain place where those who venture do not return, take heed."

Mearing remembered a lonely mountain pass in Afghanistan where more than one agent had disappeared without a clue, and she wondered what might have been living in that awful, barren place. She had been there alone at night herself. Had something recognized a fellow hunter and sought an easier meal—or had it just not been hungry that night?

Diarwen said, "I need to get a neighbor to take care of Betony's place. Is there a particular tale you'd have me spin to explain my absence?"

"We have an agent at Walter Reed who handles calls confirming sick friends. I'll get you the details." She typed into her laptop, and then wrote a phone number and a few details about the sick friend on a sticky note. "You don't have a cell. Would you like one of ours?"

"Complete with tracking device, I should imagine?"

"Of course."

"Why not?"

Mearing spoke to her secretary, who soon came in with the phone. Diarwen politely excused herself to make the call, though she was certain that it was being monitored.

Li asked, "Shall I arrange for someone to take you back to Ms. Lennox' place to get your things?"

Diarwen considered. She did have some things at the farm that she would have liked to have had, her harp for one and her armor for another. She had a feeling, though, that she was exactly where she needed to be right now. It was a long way up there and back. "That shouldn't be necessary, if your quartermaster can supply the basics. My needs are few."

"Director, with your permission I'll take Ms. Diarwen down to supply to get geared up."

"Yes, of course. Find her a place to stay while you're at it."

"Yes, Director. This way, ma'am."

Diarwen followed the secretary down to the NEST supply room. Li turned her over to a sergeant named Houston. He quickly supplied her with BDUs, boots and a personal kit. "I'm not authorized to issue you weapons, ma'am."

Diarwen examined the equipment that she had been issued along with the uniform. She would leave most of it behind. It was too much weight for her fighting style. "That's quite all right, I have my own. Could I have a few of those small kit bags for my webbing, and some web belts that you don't mind me cutting up?"

Houston produced the requested items, as well as a lighter that Diarwen could use to sear the cut ends of the webbing. She soon had her own gear and weapons arranged in easy reach. Except for her long white-blonde braid and lack of insignia, with her sword and bow under a glamour she blended in a lot better. She could have been any civilian contractor.

Li returned and showed her to her quarters, half an otherwise-unoccupied room for two junior officers. Diarwen changed into her uniform and stowed her civilian clothes. By the time she finished that, Mearing and Tigran had arranged papers for her. She was free to wander out into the main area.

Ironhide was working on his weapons at a bench nearby. She knew little of that, but from what she could tell, it looked like he was loading for bear. There was a small blue bot with him, one that she hadn't seen before. This one turned to Diarwen, and bowed deeply. "Lady, I have no words to thank you."

"I was fortunately in a place to cry an alarm."

Ironhide said, "True, but you drew your sword instead of running for cover."

"Well, I've no use for a back-stabbing coward," she scowled.

"I won't argue that. This is Chromia, my bondmate. You may not know, but your actions today saved her life as well as mine."

"Well met, milady. Knowing that, I am doubly glad I was able to help. I am called Diarwen."

Chromia nodded. She said, "My sisters and I were with Prime at Andrews when it all happened. I still can't believe—"

"Neither can I," Ironhide said. "I've fought beside that glitch since I was a raw recruit. I trusted him like anyone else here. Can't believe I was such a fool."

Diarwen said, "I saw many things in my Queen's court, but only once such treason. Her own seneschal tried to poison her. I'd have eaten anything he gave me. No one ever knew why he did it."

Ironhide growled, "Unless Sentinel didn't have a choice, I don't _care_ why."

Chromia put her servo on his arm. He covered it with his own, but then turned back to his workbench. His bondmate knew him well enough to know when to leave him be. He wasn't intentionally snubbing them, he just needed to lose himself in his work for a while to come to terms with all that had happened today.

And, at least, he wasn't blowing things up.

Chromia let their bond speak for her, then turned to Diarwen. "Come with me, I'll introduce you around."

The Sidhe followed her out into the commons. The green bot was Ratchet, their healer. There were two sets of twins, the silver Lamborghini Sideswipe and his golden brother Sunstreaker, and a smaller set, Mudflap and Skids, who transformed respectively into a red Chevrolet Trax and green Chevrolet Beat. The yellow Camaro was Bumblebee. Chromia had two sisters, Flareup and Arcee. The three of them transformed into motorcycles and could also combine into one larger bot, though in practice they were usually more effective separately. The old blue one was Wheeljack, also known as Que. A red one with an Italian accent, a better-than-you attitude and two axe weapons was Mirage. A gray and blue Chevy Volt was named Jolt; Chromia explained that he was Ratchet's apprentice. "That's all of us who are here right now. Sam has a couple of minibots, Wheelie and Brains, at his place."

Diarwen struggled to keep track of all the names, something out of the ordinary for a bard who lived by her rote memory. "My apologies, Chromia. I find myself quite tired."

"After the day you've had, I shouldn't be surprised," her guide said sympathetically. "You must have had the fright of your life when that glitch took a swing at you! Ironhide said you jumped over his blade!"

"I do know how to fight a foe of that size, but it isn't size alone that makes that one dangerous. I am truly thankful that Ironhide convinced him he would be better off elsewhere."

"I'd like to know where he went and what he's up to. Nothing good, I'll bet."

"Very likely," Diarwen said. "We will be better prepared when next we face him, I hope."

"With any luck, he'll have us all to answer to next time," Chromia replied. "The humans are getting ready for their evening meal, you should hurry before they eat it all!"

Tonight the cook had fixed a southern-style chicken dinner. She joined the others in line for supper.

(Continued in Part 2)


	2. Chapter 2

(continued from Part 1)

(Disclaimers in Part 1)

The Washington Mall would ordinarily have been full of tourists late on a summer evening a few days later. The monuments spoke of the American people's history, of their pride in their nation. For many, it was a hallowed place of pilgrimage, as people came to honor their dead at the Wall and the newer World War II memorial.

This evening, no one was there other than Cybertronians. The initial defenders and many of the tourists who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time lay dead. Megatron had taken over the Lincoln Memorial.

No one challenged them yet; the first order of business was evacuating the President and other government officials to safer command posts.

Sentinel cared nothing for any meaning that the humans gave the place, and less for the fate of any humans whose presence interfered with his plans. All that mattered now was all that had ever mattered, ending this war and saving Cybertron. Nothing and no one was more important than that goal.

He hovered the pillars of the space bridge over the largest open space, the reflecting pool. This trial run of a new technology was the first step towards the accomplishment of his goal.

They would see. They would all see. Everything would be worth it in the end.

-DOTM-

Charlotte Mearing stood at the rail of the walkway, looking out over her domain. She had spent the day on Capitol Hill, arguing for more funding for her agency, then meeting with her counterparts at the CIA and Homeland Security. That she had another full day's work here didn't give her pause. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had more than six hours sleep in a night. Few people noticed, or cared, because she Got Things Done.

Theodore Galloway had left her a mess. He had been one of the first incompetents out the door when the new administration had come into office, but her appointment had been held up by obstructionists on Capitol Hill who were determined nothing would move forward before the 2012 elections.

General Morshower had done his best but NEST was not his only responsibility; Optimus Prime and William Lennox had taken responsibility for getting the job done with whatever they had on hand. Somebody had posted a sign below the big screen that said, "The difficult we can do right now. The impossible takes a little longer." That pretty much summed up the can-do attitude around here.

Morshower had finally got sick of it and pulled some strings with his friend, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He in his turn had gone to some hardline GOP hawks who preceded the Tea Party Republicans and held important positions on the Defense and Ways and Means committees. Some old-fashioned deals had been made, and her appointment had been on the President's desk by the close of business.

In spite of the disruption caused by Sentinel's defection, Mearing had settled into her new place. The boxes were out of her office and she knew her way around.

She had not been prepared to like either Optimus Prime or Will Lennox, but she found that she did. Prime was not a natural politician, but he very well understood political necessities. When he asked her advice, it was always a well-thought-out question from a leader to an expert on the local situation. They had got off on the wrong foot initially, but he had quickly understood that had been the result of policies set many administrations previously, and that she was doing her best to clean house. A mutual respect had grown out of their work together since.

The fierce love his warriors offered him reminded Mearing of her studies of Robert E. Lee. They would simply follow him straight into hell, without reservation or regret, if he asked it of them. One _earned _that kind of loyalty from soldiers such as these.

With Lennox, she had been prepared to have to deal with an arrogant, elite special forces commander. She had known a lot of them in the Gulf and had the best of them shaking in their boots within five minutes. Everybody was afraid of the CIA. She had become an expert at using that fear as one of the weapons in her arsenal.

Will Lennox was something else again. He was a younger Tom Morshower. Morshower had ideas that Will would follow him to the Pentagon. Mearing knew better. Will Lennox was exactly where he was meant to be, doing the job he was intended to do, and he knew it.

Li said, "Director, there's a call from the Pentagon."

Mearing took it, then hung up and pushed a button that sounded an alarm.

The bots and the troops came running. She said, "I have a report of a situation on the National Mall near the Lincoln Memorial. There are reports of five to eight Cybertronians present, including individuals matching Megatron and Sentinel's descriptions. We have reports of multiple casualties including park staff, civilians and DC Metro Police."

The place exploded into action, as NEST geared up and Will and Optimus got together in front of a tactical map, planning their approach. Within five minutes Optimus had given the order to roll out.

-DOTM-

The Washington Mall was a scene of chaos. When they arrived, they had the advantage of numbers, and they were all anxious to get Sentinel.

It should have been a rout.

There was Sentinel, but Optimus had plenty of backup, and Megatron looked, in Sam Witwicky's words, like five miles of bad road. Diarwen had positioned herself with the sisters, catching a ride with Chromia. She was a light skirmisher as they were, and fit better with them than with the NEST team.

No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy.

Sentinel had done something with the pillars that he had arranged over the reflecting pool. A portal—she clearly recognized a magical portal—had opened, and hundreds of Decepticons of every description had come pouring out.

Diarwen hadn't had time to think since. She had barely had time to call Fire to her sword before the charge had been upon them. In the absolute madness of two armies crashing into one another, there was nothing but kill or be killed.

She beheaded some long serpentine protoform just before its more conventionally shaped comrade backhanded her into a pile of rubble. Rebar ripped her BDU jacket and seared a long brand along her ribs. She rolled hard and summoned her sword back to her hand. She danced away from the Decepticon's attempt to step on her. She slashed between two armor plates in his lower leg, and got another burn for her trouble as energon sprayed from a cut line.

That seemed equivalent to heavy bleeding, but it wasn't the Achilles' tendon strike that she had hoped. Against a Fomor or another large opponent, Sidhe tactics were usually to get them on the ground to put more vital areas within reach, or else to let the archers deal with them. These things' armor had enough gaps to be more or less useless against her, if she knew where to aim. And that was the problem.

She leapt to the top of the rubble pile, avoiding the rebar this time. When the Decepticon slammed his fist down, she jumped to his forearm and vaulted to his shoulder, and sliced down between his helm and backplate.

He keeled over like falling timber. Diarwen landed hard on concrete and fought to get her feet back under her before something else went wrong.

Some sort of thing with too many bladed legs skewered a DC police officer. Diarwen engaged it. The world contracted to slash and thrust and parry. She removed enough legs from the 'Con that it fell into a position from which she could stab it through the spark.

Diarwen fought hard to get her breath after that all-out effort. Pure adrenaline had blocked the pain of her injuries, but they and a few new ones made themselves obvious as she freed her sword, with some difficulty. A mithril blade _could _snap. Proving that point was the last thing she wanted to do tonight.

She cast a blood stopping charm on a shallow gash down her left leg. A pox on these uniforms! She'd as well fight in her own skin as this. If she got out of this alive she was going straight back to Betony's to get her own mail—and her harp.

A thunderous crash brought her out of her exhausted stupor. Her battle with the spider-bot had carried her to the back of the Lincoln Memorial. She picked her way through the rubble and suddenly stopped in horror.

Twenty feet away, Sentinel had Optimus on the ground, his foot on the younger Prime's throat, gun pointed right at him. She considered trying to get to the back of Sentinel's neck and kill the traitor, but common sense held her back. Even if she succeeded, there was too much chance he would pull the trigger before he died. If she tried to distract him, he would likely kill the enemy he had at his mercy before taking on a second one. All she could do was wait and watch.

**"Sentinel,"** Optimus said, **"you must shake free of their control! Remember who and what you are!"**

**"Control?"** For a moment, Sentinel looked at him, obviously unsure what he was talking about. **"You think that the Decepticons have somehow corrupted me? Are forcing me to act against my will? Oh, Optimus, how can one be so old and so utterly naïve?"**

**"They must have found you … captured you … when we went our separate ways …"**

**"Yes, I met up with the Decepticons after you and I parted company, but only to finalize our plans. Look into my eyes, Optimus. Hear my voice. You know that I am speaking freely, of my own will. In the depths of your Spark, you know."**

Diarwen had hoped her suspicions were wrong. She had surely never hoped to have them proven true this way.

**"Why?"**

**"For Cybertron,"** he replied. **"For our home. What war destroyed, we still can save. But only if we join with the Decepticons. And I knew you never would. It was the only way."**

**"This is our home. We must defend the humans!"**

**"So lost you are, Optimus. On Cybertron we were gods. And here …"** Then anger came into his tone. **"Here they call us machines."** The rust gun powered up. Diarwen tensed to spring, to avenge her friend if she could not save him. **"I did not want you to die in ignorance, my old student. You deserved better than that."**

Before Diarwen could move, all hell broke loose at the reflecting pool. It seemed as if every heavy artillery piece in the states of Virginia and Maryland opened up on the pillars all at once. And, miraculously, Sentinel moved to defend them, calling in the Decepticons to gather up the pillars and fight a strategic retreat.

Sam came running, shouting Optimus' name. **"What happened? Are you okay? Are—" He skidded to a stop, almost falling into one of the craters that had been left courtesy of the Decepticons' rampage. As he stepped back to work his way around it, he watched in astonishment as Optimus Prime shifted into his truck form. The Autobot whipped around, his tires spinning and sending chunks of dirt and grass flying every which way, and seconds later he had driven off into the night. **

When Lennox's voice came from behind her, Diarwen nearly ran him through. He held up his hands, familiar enough with combat reflexes to shrug off her apology. **"What the hell happened?"** **Lennox demanded.** **"Why'd he take off like that?"**

**"I don't know,"** **Sam said.**

**"Maybe he didn't see you."**

**"He saw me. He looked right at me. And then he … he just drove away."**

**Lennox nodded. "He probably had to rendezvous with the others. Figure out their next move."**

**"Sure. That's gotta be it."**

**"Just wish to God he'd let us in on the plan. Good call about the pillars, though. Obviously, they still must have some kind of use for them."**

**"Sure they do," Sam said hollowly. "They want to be able to transport themselves instantly all over the world, at any time."**

**"Could be," said Lennox, sounding annoyed that he hadn't thought of it. "First job in warfare is infrastructure. Be able to move the troops around. Thanks to those things—and Sentinel—they can do that. If they want to overrun Canada, all they need is for Sentinel to get there, and the troops do the rest. On the other hand, maybe they have something bigger in mind."**

**"Great. Something else to worry about." **Sam sounded as wrung out as Diarwen felt. Lennox put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.** "Let's get home. Nothing more to do here."**

**"Right," **Sam said.** "Nothing more to do."**

-DOTM-

When they got back to NEST Headquarters, the other Autobots were already there but Optimus was absent. Apparently he had said something to Ironhide, because the weapons specialist was getting things organized.

NEST had taken casualties, as they always did. The human medics were tending their wounded, just as the injured bots were waiting for their turns with Ratchet and Jolt.

Diarwen detoured to the kitchen for things to see to her injuries, vinegar to disinfect cuts, oil to tend her burns, a bowl to mix herbs with the oil. Sewing thread and a mithril needle she already had, as well as her healing herbs.

She was tired enough to lie down on the closest patch of floor where she was unlikely to get underfoot, and sleep for about a week, but she knew she had to tend her wounds first. If she let them worsen, no one here knew how to heal her. Their medicines were likely to do more harm than good.

Rather than ask, and have to answer awkward and complicated questions, she simply purloined a roll of gauze and some tape.

She went into her quarters and stripped and showered, then pulled her nightstand over to have a place to work while she sat on the bed. She laid out her supplies and tended the injuries.

The iron burn from the rebar troubled her most greatly. Unlike the usual slashes and bruises of combat, spells wouldn't hurry its healing, though magic could stave off the infections to which any burn was prone. She mixed powdered aloe and willow bark with the oil, and spread a thin layer over the angry, weeping burn. A layer of gauze would give some protection against further damage. That was all she could do for now.

There was a knock at the door as she reached for her civilian clothing. She called, "Who is it?"

"Chromia."

"Come in."

The femme saw that she was dressing and quickly shut the door behind her. "I came to see if you needed any help, but it looks like you have everything under control."

"This is unfortunately not the first time I've tended my wounds after a battle. I'm fine."

"None of us is _fine," _Chromia said quietly. "There's food out there."

Diarwen thought she was too tired to eat, but her growling stomach protested otherwise.

Chromia helped her dress, with deft servos for someone half again Diarwen's height. Diarwen pulled the webbing holding her sword around her waist, not even bothering with a glamour anymore. Everyone around here already knew she was Fae. They would have to get used to seeing her look like one sooner or later.

"Have you heard anything of Optimus?"

"He's off getting his head together. He'll be back soon."

Diarwen nodded. Titania had often done as much in the old days.

Optimus had just been handed a dreadful shock, and he had to deal with it before facing those depending on his strength. In the meanwhile, his second would sort out the immediate rush.

Diarwen started to clean up her mess, but Chromia said, "Leave it. If you don't mind a stranger in your quarters, Flareup will take care of it."

"That would be a great kindness."

Once they were outside the bedroom, Chromia knelt down into her motorcycle form and offered Diarwen a ride to the other end of the building where the mess hall was located.

Diarwen only barely registered that she was eating stew, and more of the scone-like biscuits that they had with supper, what seemed like an age ago.

Lennox sat down beside her, looking as bad as she felt. Worse, she was sure, for he had lost men tonight. "Well, not the absolute worst of outcomes, was it?" she said, exhaustion and understanding warring in her tone.

"Not _the_ worst, but bad enough. Hundreds of them came through. We dealt with a grand total of ninety. I lost seventeen troops, good men and women."

"I grieve the lost—may they feast in the hall of Arianrhod this night—but in military terms I like those numbers. They can afford the losses less than we."

"The Autobots were responsible for eighty of them."

"Well, then, what have we learned about fighting them to change that ratio? I need a better knowledge of them, Will, my blade is tiny compared to them. I need to know how to use it to best effect."

"Ironhide or Ratchet would be the best to teach you that. What did Sentinel say to Optimus?"

Diarwen swallowed milk without truly tasting it. "He _admitted_ his treason. 'Twas all done for the sake of his homeland. The oathbreaking son of a harlot sold his honor for lands and holdings, and now he shall have none of it. Had your military not distracted him with your attack on the pillars, he'd have killed Optimus, and I think there would not have been a rutting thing I could have done to stop him."

"That bastard is going to be damn hard to kill, and if he and Megatron are fighting together—!" Will took a swallow of his coffee. Diarwen wondered if he wished it were something stronger.

Will finished his coffee and rose, saying, "I need to check on my kids." He went over to the medical area, stopping by a couple of cots to reassure the wounded soldiers. Some of them were being sent to Walter Reed in military ambulances that pulled right up into the building.

Diarwen knew there was nothing more she could do tonight. She went outside to stand in faint moonlight and pray for the honored dead, and the safety of the living. It was nearly the dark of the moon. She had the feeling she might soon be calling on the strength of the Dark Moon Goddess, let the consequences come as they may. She had once sought her end in honorable battle. Maybe it was now that she was fated to find it.

She went back to her quarters and slept.

(continued in Part 3)


	3. Chapter 3

(Continued from Part 2)

(Disclaimers in Part 1)

Some uproar out in the commons awakened her early the next morning, and she hurried outside.

Optimus was there, she thanked the Mother, but there was no sign of Will or Mearing. Graham seemed to be in charge on the human side of things.

When Diarwen saw that the commotion was not an attack, she stopped to dress and gear up. Flareup had brought her a clean set of BDUs. She didn't want to fight with a skirt wrapping around her ankles, so she put them on. Her burn ached as she buttoned the shirt.

When she got out, everyone in the place was gathered at the administration end of the building. On the big screen, CNN was replaying a video from Sentinel Prime.

**"Defenders of Earth: My name is Sentinel Prime, the true leader of the Autobots.**

**"For millennia our galaxy was ravaged by a tragic civil war. But now that war is over, and our armies stand as one. We come from a damaged planet, which must be rebuilt.**

**"What we need are the natural resources your world has in abundance. Precious metals, iron, steel. We shall use my space bridge technology to transport an equitable share of such material. And then we will leave your planet in peace.**

**"However, for such peace to exist, you must renounce resistance. You must immediately exile from this planet the rebels you have harbored, or we will deem it your hostile intent, and, through my space bridge, will come more battalions. And you will know our righteous strength.**

**"We want no war with you. Only our planet's reconstruction. Long live Cybertron. Long live Earth. Renounce the rebels. We await your reply."**

The soldier next to her snorted, "Lying bastard. If anyone believes that's all they want, I've got a bridge I'll sell 'em cheap. They might not want a war but I say let's give 'em one. Kill 'em all before they bring more through."

Diarwen said, "If those with common sense made the battle plans, we'd have to fight fewer battles, my friend."

"You got that right," he said.

The Sidhe went looking for Ironhide, supposing that it was kinder to ask a weapons specialist than a healer if you wanted to know the most efficient ways to kill.

-DOTM-

It was a small, stunned group of people who stood near a Cape Kennedy launch pad that hot Florida morning.

The last couple of days had been a three-ring circus.

The UN had soundly rejected Sentinel's demands, but then in an unbelievable reversal, the US had abruptly decided to give him what he wanted.

Mearing had gone to the White House to swallow her considerable pride and beg for reconsideration.

She had failed.

The look of shame in her eyes as she reported to Optimus that they must leave had been unbearable to see, unbearable in the knowledge that no single person had the power to change it.

Sunstreaker's cold "On your heads be it" had for once spoken for Diarwen as well; she was surprised that she hadn't also been told to pack her things.

Sam and Bee were distraught.

Lennox and Ironhide were no less so, if more resigned to the cost of following orders. There were tears over the phone as some of the Autobots who knew humans outside NEST said goodbye to people they had no time to bid farewell in person.

Diarwen had been preparing to go, when Optimus had come to her. "I know that you take this as an insult from the government, Lady, but I would ask you as a personal favor to stand by my friends in this. They will need your help."

She could not refuse him, but after this cowardly betrayal she no longer felt loyalty to anyone to whom she had no personal ties.

As Optimus had said, it was their fight now. They had been in complete, unspoken agreement that it would be won only at a dreadful cost.

Diarwen would be on the front lines; she did not expect to see him again until they met one day in Summerland.

She had never been so ashamed of her association with humans in her life as she was when she watched the _Xantium_ ride a column of fire into the clear blue sky. A pair of boosters separated and fell gracefully back towards the sea.

Then she saw a small silver centipede crawl down Sam's arm and skitter toward a crack. She threw her knife and went over to pick up the weapon with the still-wriggling thing impaled on its blade. She didn't know what it was, but she ended its suffering by crushing it under her boot.

Sam was gripping the railing looking up into the sky. No human, indeed, would have heard from Sam what Optimus said to him, but that thing had been no human, Diarwen thought.

Simmons said, **"Years from now, they're gonna ask us: Where were you when they took over the planet? And we're gonna say we just stood there and watched."**

Mearing shouted something about an F-22. Diarwen followed her pointing finger and saw a dot of silver in pursuit of the _Xantium. _It fired, and the ship exploded.

Diarwen cried out something in Sidhe, drowned out by the screams and curses of those around them.

She drew the knife across her palm. Blood welled between the fingers of her clenched fist as she swore, "My friends, you will be avenged. I swear that I will do as you have asked. I will fight until this world is free or till I fall in its defense, no matter how little its people deserved your sacrifice."

Simmons could not possibly have understood a word of her vow, for she had spoken in the language of the Sidhe. But he still unfolded a jackknife and sliced his own palm, letting his blood mingle with hers on the sunbaked metal below their feet. "We'll kill those bastards for this," he said.

Sam held out his hand for Simmons' knife and added his own offering. "I swear, I'll get Starscream for this, Bee."

Mearing drew a slim blade from her sleeve. "I couldn't save them, but I'll do my level best to see justice done," she swore.

Epps just cut his hand and let his blood fall. Whatever oath he swore was silent, but there was nothing in his cold gaze except death.

Sam said, "Til all are one."

The rest of them echoed that.

Simmons said, "The Earth Liberation Army starts here, people."

Epps said sarcastically, "Viva la fuckin' revolution."

Everyone was startled when Diarwen cast a healing spell that sealed their cuts, but they'd all seen her call fire to her sword and cut down Decepticons. This would have been mildly interesting in comparison, if not for their shock and grief. As it was, they seemed to simply accept it as more evidence that the world had just turned sideways.

Mearing was called away by one of her people. Whatever it was, it must have been important because she took off at a run.

Sam began to explain to Simmons about the little watch-bot and that Carly was Gould and Soundwave's prisoner. That was enough to impel the two of them to hurry to find Dutch and his computer gear.

Diarwen and Epps followed along, unsure of their own course of action. Diarwen cast through several alternatives as she watched them. Then she heard someone mention Chicago and she felt a cold thread of fear.

She pushed past several people to get outside and punched Betony's number into her phone. "Answer! Please answer, Betony."

It didn't even ring.

She went back inside in time to hear Epps saying, **"...assholes just killed my friends, too. And if Gould is connected to them, then I'm making sure he's going down in the same kinda flames the Autobots did."**

Diarwen said, "I'm going with you. Betony Lennox was on her way to Chicago and now she isn't answering her phone."

Simmons told her, "All comms with Chicago just went down."

"I have a friend down here. He's a fair shot and a level head in a fight," Diarwen said, though their previous fights had been once with muggers, and another time a bar brawl that had actually started between two other groups of people.

"Where is he?"

"Daytona, is that far from here?"

Epps said, "We'll be picking up some friends there." Epps decided against telling Lennox that his sister was involved. Will needed to have his head in the game to save her and everyone else. The distraction could get him killed. If they all lived and Will wanted to punch him for that later, then he'd let him have his shot.

Gathering up Jordan and Epps' friends took a few hours. Jordan had a big 12-gauge shotgun loaded with deer slugs. They didn't know if it would help but it couldn't hurt, and it might even be effective against some of the smaller 'Cons. The former NEST troops generally went with weapons like a 30.06 with hand-loaded explosive rounds, something that actually could do some damage to a Cybertronian with a good hit. By the time they got to St. Louis the next dawn, they were nineteen strong. There they met up with a skinny guy who had a backpack full of cobbled-together electronics that he claimed could play hell with a Cybertronian's sense of balance and ability to target his weapons.

Diarwen had to question their effectiveness, since the man had an artificial arm and was missing an eye. But then, they had every right to question the usefulness of a longsword against something the height of a two- or three-story building, until they saw for themselves what she could do with it.

She spent most of the trip removing ordinary broadhead tips from arrows purchased from a hunting supply store, and replacing them with heavily spelled mithril arrowheads. Ironhide had given her some very good tips on where best to strike, both with an arrow and with her sword, and also more of a feel for the kind of effect she needed from her spells to make the weapons most effective. Of all the bots, he had been the most accepting of "magic." Diarwen didn't think he had actually believed in it, but if she wanted to call it that, he hadn't argued semantics.

Something good had gone out of the universe that beautiful Florida day. Now it was time to exact payment. Diarwen promised herself that if Sentinel and Megatron didn't know what kind of enemy a vengeful Sidhe was, she would happily teach them. There would be plenty of time to mourn later.

The caravan stopped in a small town about half an hour south of Chicago to eat and stretch their legs. Most of them had slept on the journey, taking turns driving. They started to see cars full of refugees fleeing the attack. They told of mass casualties, police and National Guard units massacred, civilians murdered more or less for the hell of it. When they drove into town, their lane was clear—everyone else was evacuating.

Then they started to pass the damage. Diarwen was no stranger to modern warfare. She had seen plenty of battle damage in Iraq and Afghanistan that was every bit as bad as this. But never had she seen this many civilians deliberately targeted. The dead, and the terrorized survivors, were everywhere.

Jordan turned green and grabbed for a paper bag the first time he saw, up close, a set of clothes full of polished white bones, the grinning skull staring up at him from a trash-filled gutter. "What could have done that?"

Diarwen said, "One of their weapons. Something they used without mercy or care for any distinction between warriors and the common folk. What more do we need to know than that? These bastards have no honor," she spat.

Eventually the roads became so choked with debris that they could take the convoy no further. They dismounted and proceeded on foot.

Hoping against hope, Diarwen tried the cell phone again, but now it was completely dead. She took a ring from her finger and looped it through a bracelet that Betony had made for her. She held the ring up over the hood of the truck she'd been riding in, chanting softly under her breath. The ring swung randomly for a few moments, but then gradually began to pull to the north, directing her toward Betony.

Diarwen looked in the direction the ring was pointing, to where the downtown towers rose into the clear blue sky. Her friend _would_ be right in the middle of it all!

Jordan asked, "Will that help us find her when we get closer?"

"It should. The Decepticons have no wards...not that they need any." She muttered that last so that no one heard it but Jordan.

There was a colossal explosion, and one of the tall buildings near the Chicago River toppled.

One of the men, who called himself Hardcore Eddie, said, "We're goin' in there?"

Epps looked out over the devastation, then back at his men. "Ain't nobody gettin' in there."

"Wait—I am," Sam told him quietly.

"How? You don't know where she is, you don't know what's between you and her, you don't even know if she's still alive. We got no intel. If we just go running in there like idiots we'll die without doing anything worthwhile."

"Trump Tower. That's where Gould is, and he's got Carly with him."

Diarwen said, "I know that Betony still lives and that she is north of here. I am going also."

Eddie said, "You're both crazy. We need to play this smart. Figure out how we're going to work this."

"There is no time for that. Whatever it is that they are going to do with those pillars, once it is done that will be the end of everything," Diarwen replied. "I wish there were time to plan and to gather more information. There is not. Whatever slim hope this world has, it rests in our hands. So I ask you—will you decide to die fighting, at worst to fall with honor, at best to win through and survive? Or will you flee, at best to be shot in the back, at worst to live in chains? For my part, I am going to get Betony out—and then I am going _hunting."_

Before the argument could go any further, they heard something flying just above street level. One of Epps' friends, a man named Wells, was struck dead before he ever realized what was happening. The rest of them ran for cover, _any_ cover.

Diarwen knelt in the shadow of a wrecked bus and strung her bow. She nocked an arrow, and tried to relate what Ironhide had told her about killing ground mecha to this flying one. It was not a mech, but some sort of vehicle with a pilot inside, she realized on closer inspection.

And then a blast knocked it out of the sky. None of them had done that!

She turned to see who had fired that shot and her jaw dropped. Her first thought was that she was looking at ghosts, and from the looks on the faces of the rest of her company, they thought the same thing, and all traces of their fatigue, like hers, had vanished. But these were no spirits.

She let out a scream of joy and broke into a flat out run. The middle of the street in a war zone was no place for a reunion, but for a moment no one cared.

Diarwen said to Optimus, "Never let it be said, Goddess has no sense of humor. We swore a blood oath to avenge you!"

"There is no shortage of innocents crying out for vengeance. I thought I saw the last of this on Cybertron. It ends here."

"So mote it be. Betony is here somewhere, so is Carly, but we have a fair idea where _she_ is. Where are the other Autobots?"

"The Decepticons have massed a great number of prisoners in an arena north of here. I sent the rest with Ironhide to find out what they mean to do with them."

"That would explain Betony."

"Does Lennox know his sister is here?"

Epps replied, "No. I figured one damn fool in this mess after her was enough."

Diarwen said, "I remember a line from a movie, Bobby, and it went something like this. Who is more the fool—the fool, or the fool who follows her?"

"OK, now I've officially heard everything, a fuckin' elf quoting Obi-Wan Kenobi!"

"It took you so long to figure out that this world is a mad, mad place?"

He grinned. "Optimus, I hope you had some kind of a plan comin' into this, because we sure as hell didn't."

"Yeah we did. Get Carly and Betony, and kill those fraggers," Sam said.

"Kid, if we get outta this, remind me to explain to you the difference between an objective and a plan."

Optimus said, "Perhaps now the more foolish among your elected officials will finally understand. **Decepticons will never leave your planet alone. And we needed them to believe we had gone."**

**It took Sam long moments to recover his breath. "They … they were watching me." He pointed to his wrist even though the miniature spy was long gone. "I couldn't tell you …"**

**"You told me enough for me to know that something was wrong."**

**"But your ship … They blew it up …"**

**Roadbuster strode forward with his characteristic swagger. "Designed the damn thing, didn't we? First booster rocket to separate … that was our splashdown escape pod!"**

**"Thing was a bucket of bolts anyway," Topspin said dismissively.**

**Roadbuster agreed. "Never woulda made it outta the atmosphere."**

There were more explosions in the distance, and more buildings came down. Diarwen asked, "Why are they doing this? Destruction on this scale must have _some _purpose beyond the mere will to destroy."

**"If they're destroying the city," Optimus said, "it's to make a fortress so no one can see what they're up to inside."**

**"Then I think I know how to get a look," Sam said. He turned and pointed to the fallen alien ship. There were chunks of it all over the place, but a considerable portion of it was still in one piece. "Can we sneak in with that thing?"**

A rush of wings got their attention. It was a crow, a big one with ragged feathers and an oddly intelligent look in its black eyes. It landed on Diarwen's shoulder, pecked her ear, and flew away into the city. Diarwen asked, "What lies that way?"

Optimus said, "That's almost a direct line to the arena. I have never seen a bird act in such a way."

"That blood oath I mentioned? Ravenkind are sacred to the Morrigan. I think this is a summons that I dare not disobey."

"Go," Optimus said. "I doubt you'll have any trouble finding us again when you've finished your business there."

Epps sent four men with her, Perkins, Cornell, Rideout and Journey. She nodded, they were hunters, all Kentucky mountain boys who lived close together and knew each other well.

Jordan wanted to go with her, but she explained, "I need people with me who can move quietly, and practically disappear in plain sight. I do not doubt your courage, Jordan, but you are simply no hunter. With four men gone, Bobby will have need of you. Brigit guard you, my friend."

He nodded. "Be careful, Diarwen. Bring her home."

The five of them disappeared into the rubble and smoke. They were hunting for bigger game than a twelve-point buck today.

(Continued in Part 4)


	4. Chapter 4

(Continued from Part 3)

(Disclaimers in Part 1)

Diarwen looked out over the city from their vantage point inside an abandoned apartment building. "Do any of you know the city well?"

Joe Rideout said, "I lived here for a little while back in the 90's."

"Tell me of this Veterans' Stadium."

"It's where the Bears play football."

"So there could be tens of thousands of people there."

Journey adjusted his cap. "Easy, if they took that many prisoners. Didn't look to me like they were trying that hard to take prisoners."

"How much cover is in that park?" Diarwen asked.

"Not great, till you get close to the stadium itself. Then there isn't any. It's pretty much open all around it. And that isn't all. A major road, Lakeshore Drive, goes through the park. They're going to be patrolling that."

They swam the river using the remains of the Damen Street Bridge as cover, with their clothes and weapons wrapped in duct-taped garbage bags. As soldiers they were used to seeing other soldiers in various states of undress, and they all had their share of scars; Diarwen had centuries' worth.

Scars and skin were unimportant now, and nobody said anything as they stopped under the remains of the opposite bridge approach to quickly gear back up.

It was slower going than Diarwen liked. They were far enough from downtown that patrols were infrequent, but still a concern whenever they were in the open. Pershing Avenue was lined with two- or three-story brick stores, gas stations, fast food places—what was to be expected on any major street in any Midwestern city. Most of the people had fled south but there were some who hadn't, or couldn't. They kicked in more than one basement door to give children or elderly or disabled people at least somewhere to hide.

It was nothing they hadn't seen before. Any time disaster touched a city, there would always be those among the able-bodied who abandoned those who couldn't keep up. It still made the members of the war-band furious. They knew the best thing they could do to help was get rid of the 'Cons, but it still wasn't easy to leave scared and often injured people with nothing better than advice to keep their heads down.

They finally reached Lakeshore Drive, which crossed a bridge over the expressways; people were hiding under the bridge. Diarwen got glimpses of faces blackened with soot. They kept going, since there was nothing they could do for these poor souls.

Journey said, "Quiet, I heard something."

Diarwen listened. There was a faint mew, which at first she thought was a cat but then realized it came from one of the wrecked vehicles that choked this section of the Dan Ryan Expressway. "Wait here, I'm going to see what that is."

"I think it's coming from that blue Ford."

She looked around for more seekers, but they all seemed to be nearer the city center for the moment. Staying low and clinging to the rubble, she went down the line of cars.

The front of the blue car had been crushed—stepped on, no doubt. The driver lay slumped over the wheel, cold and white. The noise was coming from the rear seat. The roof was crushed so that she couldn't easily see into the back seat. She moved to the back of the car.

It was a baby, filthy, with a scratch from flying glass across his little face, but still looking up at her with wide, trusting brown eyes from a car seat which was still strapped in place. His blanket lay on the seat beside him. "My Goddess!"

Diarwen tried the back door, to find it hopelessly jammed. She covered the baby with the blanket, then used the hilt of her knife to break out what was left of the glass.

She had to cut the straps holding the baby to the car seat, as it was too big to maneuver out of the crushed car.

Once he was freed, she wrapped the baby in the blanket and extricated him from the vehicle. With a last prayer for the driver's safe journey to Summerland, she took the baby back to the people in the underpass.

One man said, "You can't leave that brat here! We don't have anything to feed it or anything!"

A woman with stringy blonde hair wearing a ripped waitress' uniform backhanded him across the mouth hard enough to bounce his head off the concrete bridge pier behind him. Without saying a word, she gave him a look that was pure contempt and held out her arms for the baby. She and Diarwen exchanged a look, and then the five of them were gone, into the park.

Rideout had been right about the lack of cover in that park. It was mostly cut grass on either side of a trail that Diarwen would have described as a sidewalk, a good place for people to bike and run. There were trees dotted here and there but nothing to break the line of sight.

Journey said, "Ironhide's around here somewhere? What the fuck is _he_ using for cover?"

Diarwen said, "I have no idea...a squirrel could not find cover here! He must be in the lake!"

Cornell objected, "In the lake? They can do that?"

"How do you think the 'Cons got Megatron out of the ocean? Of course they can swim," Journey told him. "They don't _need_ air. It ain't like they run on a car engine, no matter what they _look_ like."

Cornell shrugged. That was all fine and good, but it didn't help them now. "We can't do that. Look, we're going to have to stay on the west side of the tracks and go from house to house. We're going to be right under their noses, but it's the only way that we can make it work."

"Yes, that is the only way we are going to get closer to the stadium," Diarwen agreed.

The route they chose led through what had once been a college neighborhood. Now it looked like a tornado had hit it, which at least meant they had cover in the rubble.

There were bones everywhere. From the clothing and belongings scattered around, far too many had been college age kids who would never grow older.

Then they stumbled across what was left of a day care center. If there had ever been any question of turning back, it was forgotten after that. The fresh scar on Diarwen's hand throbbed sharply, once, and a flock of black birds took flight from a blackened tree. _Yes, dear Lady. My sword is Yours. Show me what You would have me do._

One of the birds flew over a large tangle of wrecked vehicles that crossed several lanes of traffic. Just beyond it was a manhole of some sort.

Diarwen pointed that out. "I wonder where that goes? Maybe under the stadium?"

"It's worth a look. We sure ain't walkin' up to the front gate."

"I'll check it out. I can glamour myself easier than all of us if one of those seekers flies over. Cover me." Diarwen thought about casting the glamour, but decided to wait so that she could signal the others. She followed a fence out to the sidewalk. A low concrete wall blocked the sidewalk off from the highway. She looked around carefully for any onlookers. There was a 'Con standing around a few hundred yards away, but he was looking the other way. She jumped the fence and ran to cover behind the wrecked cars, then using the hand signals she had learned in Iraq and Afghanistan, pointed the 'Con out to her team. Moving slowly, she crossed the highway and examined the manhole.

She waited until the sentry looked away again, then put up her strongest glamour and moved the manhole cover. It was heavier than she expected, and made of iron besides—she was thankful for her gloves.

There was no disguising the clang when it hit the concrete. She dropped into the hole and landed in six inches of water, there was a square tunnel that seemed to run the same way as the sidewalk above it. She stepped into the pipe.

The 'Con tromped down there and looked around, but didn't pay any attention to what, to him, was just a hole smaller than his ped. When he saw nothing of interest, he went back to his post.

One by one the rest of the team crossed the street and climbed down the manhole.

There were a couple of storm drains lighting the tunnel before it turned toward the stadium and slanted upwards slightly. Up there, though, it was completely dark. Journey pulled out a small flashlight, most of which was covered with black electrical tape, which allowed only a dot of light to escape.

They kept as quiet as they could. While several feet of earth and a layer of concrete would keep any Decepticons that happened to be nearby from sensing their electrical fields, they could still hear well enough if they happened to be near a drain.

For a long while, they saw nothing but moss and mud-covered concrete as they passed under the stadium. But then they found a drain that apparently carried rainwater off the football field.

Diarwen climbed the ladder up to the drain, careful to avoid touching the metal rungs with bare skin. If there was one thing about human cities that she hated more than anything else, it was the sheer amount of cold iron, and usually it was things like doorknobs and handrails that people were meant to touch.

At the top, she forgot all about her annoyance. There were hundreds of people on the football field, possibly as many as two thousand, though she couldn't be sure from that angle. Some of them huddled together, others stood alone despite the crowd. From where she was, she could see three Decepticons on the lowest tier of stands, and from their spacing, there probably was another one right behind her. Then there was the one she'd seen outside, and however many more she couldn't see.

What they wanted with these people, she didn't know. Hostages? But that made no sense. No one fighting a war could afford to worry about hostages, no matter how badly they wanted to. It would give Optimus pause, but not the US military.

Maybe they didn't realize that the sheer numbers of the humans made them a threat. Kill a thousand of them, and ten thousand more would come swarming in. Millions of them could spend their lives to free their world, and there still would be enough to repopulate in no time, by Sidhe or Cybertronian standards.

The humans also had weapons that could turn the whole city to a sea of molten glass, if they were pushed to an extreme of desperation.

In any case, it was now clear what she was meant to do here. She just wasn't sure how to accomplish it. She needed to find Ironhide and his team, for one thing. She climbed back down to rejoin the others, and they went back down the tunnel to avoid being heard. Once there, she told them what she had found.

"Without knowing what Ironhide is doing, we are as likely to start a massacre as to prevent one. I can take down one of those 'Cons, but not all—not before they start shooting hostages, anyway. If anyone has any idea how to find our people without alerting the Decepticons, I would be pleased to hear it."

Unlike Cornell and Perkins, Journey and Rideout were retired NEST agents like Epps. He said, "We're just going to have to wait for them to come out of wherever they're hiding. Trust me, I know Ironhide—he's just a-waitin' for his chance."

Cornell said, "If we could get up into the stands, we might be able to get the high ground on 'em. Draw fire away from the hostages when he makes his move, if nothing else."

"Stadium maintenance probably has an easier way to get in here than climbing down those ladders with whatever tools or equipment they might want. Let's see if there's something on the other side of the stadium," suggested Rideout.

They followed the tunnel under the field. There was another drain on that side. She climbed to take another look around. There was indeed a fourth Decepticon, exactly where she had expected to find him.

She looked around for Betony, but couldn't see her. Diarwen hoped it was because she was too far away in the crowd. She thought surely she would know if her dearest friend had crossed over. But there had been so much death here that one voice might be lost in the cacophony. Tears came to her eyes as she prayed for her friend's safety. She dashed them away. There was no _time_.

The dank, smelly passage continued under the opposite side of the stadium. There they found a sturdy metal door set into the side of the tunnel.

It was locked, perhaps padlocked on the other side.

The door was hung to swing toward them, which meant there was no use trying to kick it in even if they hadn't had to worry about the noise.

Journey asked, "Can your sword cut through the hinges?"

"Yes, but...when I draw Fire to it, they are aware of it."

"Yeah, they can pick up on energy fields like we can hear and see. So magic is just energy like anything else?"

"It is nature. Life. For the most part magic only encourages things to happen that could happen anyway. Crops grow well, wounds heal quickly and cleanly. The glamours and other things I've been doing are on that order. This is another level of things, calling upon Fire—capital 'F', the element of Fire. Most Sidhe witches have an affinity with one of the elements. But that sort of working uses far more energy."

"And they'd be all over us like stink on a hog if you done that," Journey nodded. "Anybody got any thermite?"

"Right here," Rideout said. "The rest of you back up and look the other way." He put thermite strips on the hinges and ignited a child's sparkler, which he then used to touch off the thermite. Cornell got a plastic pop cup and used it to scoop up dirty water from the tunnel, and cooled the door.

The men were able to wrench it far enough open that Rideout could worm his arm in and cut off the padlock with his bolt cutters. They laid the door down in the tunnel.

A narrow, grimy stairwell waited on the other side. Once again, Diarwen took point.

At the top she found a metal expanding gate, with darkness beyond. She had excellent night vision, but there was no light here to begin with.

Journey's flashlight revealed the large bulky shapes of various sorts of equipment. Diarwen supposed it was whatever one typically kept in a basement, furnaces and water heaters. Beyond that, they found a workshop full of all sorts of tools, and the super's office.

Everything down here seemed to be painted some shade of industrial gray—the walls lighter, the bench, the door and its frame a darker tone.

At the opposite end of the tool bench was a windowed door leading into a hallway. The glass was the sort with wires embedded in a diamond pattern. Rideout was able to simply pick that lock.

The long hallway they found themselves in followed the curve of the stadium. Various doors led off, one to a laundry facility, another to storage for the various concession stands. At the hallway's midpoint was an elevator, useless with the power out. Not far past the elevator, they finally found the fire stairs.

These stairs only went up one floor. Diarwen looked through a narrow window, and immediately ducked back, holding up a clenched fist to stop the others from coming any closer.

There was a sentry standing ten feet away.

Diarwen considered and cast off several ways to kill the sentry. He probably would raise an alarm first. Even if she did deal with him silently, he would be missed sooner rather than later.

As silently as possible, she checked to see if the door was locked. Luck was with her.

Across the way was a stairway marked "Press Boxes."

They were near the center of one long side of the stadium. From here, ramps led up to this tier of stands. All along the outside wall were concession stands, restrooms, souvenir vendors, all strung like beads between gates where one bought a ticket to get in.

She had seen at least two more tiers of seating above this one.

At either end, the corridor curved around the end zones to, she supposed, a mirror arrangement on the other side of the field. Here and now, though, she needed to dislodge that sentry.

Where main force would not work, guile might. She started to sing quietly under her breath, creating an illusion of danger waiting in the shadows. As she drew energy for the spell, a shadowy form began to take shape at the end of the corridor.

Eventually the guard began to glance down that way. Diarwen beckoned the others forward.

The glamour was affecting them too, but they had the advantage of knowing she was doing something. She pointed out the stairway, then pushed the last of the energy she had raised into the spell.

The sentry saw his death coming at him. To his credit, he drew his sword and charged to meet it head on. Diarwen and her men raced across to the stairs behind his back.

By the time the sentry realized his only enemy was his own imagination and went back to his post, they were long gone.

Diarwen stopped on the landing, pale and shaking, and gasped for breath.

"What was Scorponok doing here?" Cornell whispered.

"A glamour only," she gasped. "Different for everyone-it takes the form of one's greatest fear."

"Like a Harry Potter boggart," Journey nodded.

"As good as an explanation as any, that. Laughing at it will dispel it, as will striking at it, as he did. Most flee. Either way, it would have got him away from the door."

"What did you see?"

Diarwen said shortly, "Sentinel."

Journey said, "If he'd taken a whack at me in the middle of Potomac Avenue I think he'd scare the crap of me, too."

"Yeah, what'd you see?" Rideout asked him.

"My wife waitin' on the porch at 0300 with the rolling pin," he replied with a grin.

Diarwen didn't say she hadn't been the one in mortal danger. She didn't understand why she would have seen what she did, and she didn't have time to think it through.

They made their way to the top tier and found places to wait out of sight. Another half hour passed.

Then, suddenly, several pillars blasted off from various locations around the city. That noise was overtaken by the sounds of battle from west and north of the stadium, over by the river.

The 'Cons were apparently ordered to kill the hostages before abandoning the stadium, for they conversed briefly in Cybertronian, then started to take aim. Diarwen and her men opened fire, drawing their attention away from the field. Journey and Diarwen both killed their targets outright.

The others would have carried out their orders, but that was when Ironhide started firing from the rim of the stadium. Diarwen figured he must have climbed right up the outside of the building. At the same time the groundskeeper's gate burst open and Jolt and the sisters charged in.

One of the 'Cons seemed simply to refuse to die; climbing to the top tier he went after Ironhide.

The weapons specialist had time only for one autocannon burst before the burly 'Con got too close. He transformed the autocannons away and jumped over several rows of seats to tackle the onrushing 'Con like two linebackers crashing into each other on the field below. The stands collapsed under their weight, dropping them onto the top rows of the second tier. They rolled down, crushing seats beneath them, and fell onto the field, still fighting. Hostages scattered as far away from the battle as they could get.

Diarwen knew she couldn't fire into a melee like that. She and her men ran down a ramp to the second tier and rappelled over the railing down to the field. She ordered, "Help the Sisters get these people out of here before some seeker drops a bomb on the field!"

Her men did that, while she and Jolt ran toward the fight. Exactly what they were going to do when they got there, they didn't know—those were two _big_ mechs.

She asked Jolt, "Is there a history involved?"

"Yeah, that's Blockhead. Actually the history is with Chromia, but that's...complicated."

Blockhead knocked Ironhide down. Whatever the history was, Chromia took advantage of the clear shot to open up on the 'Con with both of her autocannons. Everyone else joined in.

As Blockhead's name indicated, he wasn't the brightest torch on the wall, but he did have a streak of cunning. He grabbed Ironhide and heaved the big weapons specialist at the crowd of fleeing hostages.

Jolt let out a horrified yell and pushed everything he had into his magnetic whips, catching Ironhide and reeling him in. Both bots went down with a horrendous crash, but the hostages were unhurt.

The sisters rushed Blockhead, aiming high, darting in to slash at his legs whenever they got the chance. They were quick enough to dance out of the way of his blows.

Diarwen had his measure by then. She drew an arrow and aimed at a spot low on his left flank. The arrow disappeared under his armor. For a couple of seconds nothing happened-then spellfire shot out of every opening in his armor plates. He roared and started slapping at himself in a vain attempt to put it out.

Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten about Ironhide, who activated his fusion cannon and blasted his enemy in the head. The 'Con was dead before he hit the ground.

Getting the hostages to cover became the first order of business. There were no more Cons around, but this open ground would quickly become a kill zone if just one of those seekers came back. They all scattered out to direct the panicking crowd across Lakeshore Drive into the buildings. Over and over they told people to find somewhere to get out of sight, and _stay_ there.

That was when a beam of light shot up into the sky and Diarwen felt a gate wrench open. She screamed as the ley lines twisted, throwing _everything_ that she could sense out of balance. She turned to Ironhide. "We need to get over there _now _and stop them before whatever they're doing tears the planet apart!"

Ironhide shook off the last of the effects of the fight. "Get in!"

Nobody hesitated. She swung up into the cab while her men swarmed into the back. Jolt and the Sisters transformed and followed him towards the fighting over on Wacker Drive.

They swerved around all manner of wreckage.

Collapsed buildings.

Crushed cars.

Downed seekers and carriers.

A charred bus.

A broken, burning gas main.

And bodies, hundreds of bodies, many of which they could not avoid hitting.

They got delayed by a couple of seekers who dropped down on them from the side of a building like overgrown gray bats. Ironhide's fusion cannon popped up from his truck bed, eliciting a curse from Cornell who barely got out of the way.

Two blasts dropped the seekers in among the other wreckage.

When they got to Wacker, the main fighting had moved north to the river bend, near the Riverwalk. But Sam and Bumblebee were there, pointing urgently at something high in the air.

Sam yelled, "Optimus shot the control pillar down off the building but before Bumblebee and I could get to it, that son of a bitch Sentinel did something to float it up out of reach! Bee shot at it, but it's got some kind of force field! They're trying to bring Cybertron here and use humans as slave labor to rebuild it!"

"We'll see about that." Ironhide's fusion cannon roared again, but the burst of plasma arced around the control panel. Safety protocols shut the cannon down before it could melt down.

Jolt said, "We can't bring that field down without Sentinel's control codes!"

Diarwen said, "That portal is magical. What would happen if the control pillar went into the gate?"

Ironhide told her, "It'd blow to the Pit and gone, force field or no force field."

Diarwen walked out into the middle of the street and drew her sword. She started to chant, drawing energy ruthlessly from every node connected to the shattered ley lines. "Great Mother, help me defend thy right! Spirits of air, lend thy power unto me! Cast this abomination into eternal night! As I will so mote it be!"

She had meant to call up the gods and the spirits to help her cast a spell too great for her own energy. What actually happened was something much more; Diarwen became the sword in the hand of Eternity.

By the second repetition of her chant, even the mundanes could see her glowing with magical energy. She burned from the inside out, but somehow she held her ground to chant her rhyme a third time. Her voice rose to a spirit shout on the last "SO MOTE IT BE!" as she used her sword to direct all the energy coursing through her, using her body as its channel, at the control pillar.

For the second time, a massive beam of light shot up into the Chicago sky. It contacted the force field, which flared once, then ruptured with a blast that threw rubble into the air for three blocks around and knocked the humans and smaller bots to the ground. The beam of barely contained energy continued through to the control pillar, raising it high into the air as if it were no more than a leaf caught in a fountain.

Cybertron's gravity caught it at about fifty thousand feet, pulling it on up into the gate, and the column collapsed back into itself, most of it grounding back through Diarwen into the Earth from which it came.

High above, a ring of light exploded outwards as the portal imploded, creating a vortex that consumed the mechanical world. Diarwen collapsed to the street. Energy flowed wherever bare skin touched the torn earth, coursing out of her with no control on her part like water running out of an upended bucket.

She watched a world die, with tears streaming down her face. With a last flash of light, the portal disappeared, leaving only blue sky and roiling clouds. Stunned, she felt the ley lines begin to reweave themselves, beginning directly beneath her and extending as far as she could sense. Mother Earth was healing and cleansing Herself.

There was going to be one huge energy vortex right in the middle of one of the busiest blocks of Wacker Drive when the lines finally settled.

She looked at Ironhide with eyes full of guilt and grief. "I am so sorry…I had no idea this would be the cost."

Ironhide said, "Diarwen, you didn't do this. Sentinel did."

She drew a deep shuddering breath and sheathed her sword. "That bastard needs killing," she said in a low growl.

"Let's go find him," Ironhide replied. He held out his hand for her, and she accepted his assistance gratefully, unsure she could have gotten far without it. He transformed around her and she found herself seated in his cab.

He called to the rest of them, "Come on, what are you lugnuts waitin' for? The battle's _that_ way!"

This time, Sam and Bee joined the war band as they made their way toward the sounds of their people fighting for their lives.

-DOTM-

They followed in the wake of a massive battle. There were dead Decepticons everywhere. Sunstreaker, out of it with terrible damage to the whole left side of his body, nearly shot them before he recognized the identification codes they were sending. Ironhide waved Jolt off to tend to him.

"Sunny, where are they?"

"Bridge! Optimus and Sentinel—think Megs is there someplace too!"

There were lots of bridges, but only one of them was lowered. They skidded to a halt near Ratchet and Sides. There was no room on the bridge where Optimus and Sentinel squared off for anyone else to join in the fighting. All they could do was ready their weapons and wait for an opportunity.

Diarwen had seen many a battle come down to this, king against king in single combat. That had been for a throne, or to settle an insult. This was for the future of a world.

Time slowed to a crawl. Sentinel drew his rust gun out of subspace.

Diarwen's vision in the stadium came to pass, but not in the manner that had terrified her.

Anyone else might have flinched or hesitated, and died for their troubles; Optimus, though, was every inch a swordmaster of the caliber of Diarwen herself. He stepped inside Sentinel's guard and struck the gun with the flat of his blade. It bounced several yards and rolled towards them.

Ironhide cursed and took control of it before the weapon could go off accidentally.

Sentinel and Optimus grappled for a long moment, a contest of sheer strength. **With incredulity in his voice, Sentinel said, "When only one world can survive, you would choose their race over ours?"**

**"Over you," Optimus growled back at him, and then, with a quick twist at his waist, he upended Sentinel and slammed him to the ground.**

Sentinel replied with a kick that knocked Optimus staggering and quickly regained his peds. They struck several mighty blows that would have devastated a lesser opponent. But Diarwen quickly realized that Sentinel clearly had Optimus outmatched. The terror she had felt in the stadium came creeping back with no glamour to call it forth. Once again, as on the Mall, Optimus was in mortal danger before her eyes and there was nothing she could do to intervene. This time, it was because she had not the magic left in her to light a candle.

Optimus went down. Sentinel roared, **"We were gods once—all of us! But here there will only be one!"**

Sentinel's double blade severed Optimus' right arm at the shoulder. Energon sprayed everywhere, and Sentinel kicked Optimus to the bridge deck. Even as Optimus scrambled for some way to fight back, Sentinel raised his primax blade for what would have been the final blow. Diarwen's sword rang from its sheath—she would die in this battle before she lived a slave, and the Morrigan grant her vengeance! But before she could make a suicidal rush into the fray, a cannon blast from behind Sentinel knocked him clear of Optimus.

Megatron charged onto the bridge from no one knew where, firing as he came. He fell upon Sentinel from behind, attacking with claws and fisted servos as he closed into hand-to-hand range. He was so battered that he looked for all the world to Diarwen like some skeletal, undead liche-king of old, still dressed in the tattered remnants of his royal robes. **"This is **_**my**_** planet!"**

He threw Sentinel down, and spoke to Optimus. **"Now. We need a truce. All I wanted was to be back in charge. Besides, who would you be without me, Prime?"**

By then Optimus was back to his feet. Battered, wounded, but still defiant, he turned on his brother. This was their last fight, they both knew it. Optimus' battle mask snapped into place. **"Time to find out." **He took up his battle axe, the weapon he was accustomed to wielding in his left servo, and rushed the Decepticon commander. There was one mighty clash of weapons, then Megatron went down hard, with the axe embedded in his skull. As Optimus tried to free his weapon, Megatron's head separated from his body. Axe and head both fell to the deck nearly at Diarwen's feet.

If Megatron was still capable of seeing anything, his last sight was Diarwen sheathing her sword, her eyes fixed on Optimus, not him.

Optimus picked up Megatron's blaster and advanced on the downed Sentinel.

**"Optimus, all I ever wanted was the survival of our race. You must see why I **_**had**_** to betray you."**

**"You didn't betray me." **Optimus activated the blaster and took aim. **"You betrayed yourself." **

**"No, Optimus!"**

Two blasts later, the Battle of Chicago ended.

Optimus' systems groaned loudly as he pulled himself upright, looking around to be sure there were no more threats in evidence. Then he threw the blaster to the bridge deck.

Bee, Sam, Epps, Diarwen, Lennox, their men, the rest of the Autobots all gathered. No one spoke at first, as if they were all stunned in the sudden silence. No one dared believe it was over; no one dared to believe they were victorious.

Bee transformed and stood upright. For a moment he and Sam just stared around them at the devastation that had so recently been a bustling city center.

Lennox called, "Sam!" He drew the younger man's attention to the group of Navy SEALS. Carly pushed between two of them and the two ran to each other. Sam lifted Carly and swung her around. Optimus took a moment to drink in the sheer joy on their faces to see one another alive again.

_**In any war, there are calms between storms. There will be days when we lose faith; days when our allies turn against us. But the day will never come that we forsake this planet, and its people.**_

As the silence around him gave way to shouts of victory in both English and Cybertronian, Optimus somehow knew that his silent vow had been _heard. _

His eyes met Diarwen's. Maybe the Sidhe could help him to understand one day how he knew beyond any rationality that this world welcomed them as her adopted children, a new home in place of the home that had been truly lost to them not today but ages ago.

He touched on the clan bond, fearing what he might find, and instead found all of them there—weary beyond measure, hurt in many cases as badly as he himself was, but all present and accounted for.

The same could not be said for the brave humans who had fought beside them. Too many faces were, would be forever absent.

Yet their spirits were there in the sound of celebration, in a tattered, scorched American flag that still flew proudly from a pole in front of what had once been a bank. The dead could return to their ancestors in pride, knowing that they had defended their homeland and their people.

Diarwen looked up at Optimus with a weary smile. They needed no words for the understanding that passed between them, born of too many battles to count. Leaving the dead behind them, they looked for a place to regroup and tend their wounded.

The battle was over. The _war _was over. For those who had won through, the rest of their lives awaited.

The End


End file.
